Synergy
by Sniper Nexis
Summary: They're a team for a reason. A series of oneshots based on pairs in the team that work well together. Not slashy, just teamwork. Rated for death, and maybe some slight swearing. Chapter three now! My first fic, so constructive critisism is appreciated.
1. Got a Light?

The RED scout was hyped up on BONK!, and panicking. Not a good combination. He fired his pistol haphazardly, trying to maybe deter the BLU-clad monster that laughed maniacally, brandishing a homemade flamethrower. The flames licked at his nose and arms, and he backed up as fast as he could go. He took a moment to marvel at his misfortune. Out of scattergun ammo, low on health, and _now_ he runs into the pyro? He took out the sandman and knocked off a quick ball, hoping he could buy himself some time, but the flames torched the ball and the bat before either could touch the maniac. The pyro chuckled. Scout cringed at the muffled laughter, realizing that this meant he was done for. The pyro took out her flare gun, deciding the scout was too fast for the short range of the scrapped together flamethrower. Suddenly, however, she seemed to get an idea and switched back to the flamethrower. The scout backpedaled as fast as he could, still trying to empty his pistol into the asbestos-lined suit. The pyro stopped suddenly, and simply waved. The scout didn't stop running, thinking it was a trap, and suddenly heard a deep, silky voice behind him.

"Peekaboo," murmured the voice, and scout felt a sharp, intense pain in his spine. A second later, he felt nothing. The BLU spy looked haughtily at the dead body in front of him. "Oh dear," he said, sheathing his trademark butterfly knife, "it seems I've made quite a mess." He took out his near dead cigarette and stomped it out on the back of scout's head. When he took out his disguise kit to grab himself a new one, he noticed a golden lighter held up towards him, the pyro's special lighter.

"A fine job, my friend," praised the spy. "A fine job indeed." The pyro lit the spy's cigarette, and merely grunted. Perhaps she said something, but it was impossible to tell. She held out her hand, and the spy shook it firmly, making as close to eye contact as he could through the gas mask. Without a word, the two went their separate ways, the spy cloaking without a trace.


	2. Home Freakin' Run

"Mission _ends_ in sixty seconds!"

The announcer's voice rang out throughout the RED base, and the mercenaries cheered. BLU had been pushed back so far, their victory was assured! Only the Heavy and the Scout were left at the point to guard. "Come on, man," whined the scout, "this is boring. Nobody's gonna get past our defenses! We could just go out there, bash some heads, and nobody would be able to tell the difference!" He had long since abandoned his weapons in favor of playing a little ball with himself.

"No. We are defending. Is our job," said the Heavy, steadfast as he was large.

"You're the defensive class, not me! I mean, I should be out there, runnin' around, gunnin' people down like the offensive class I _am_!"

"Leetle Scout should have thought of this before stealing Pyro's homemade cookies," Heavy chided. It was true. The Scout had seen some delicious homemade cookies, fresh out of the oven, and decided that if one was missing, no one would care.

And if one wouldn't matter, why would two...? And if two, they were so good, he could have three and she wouldn't notice...

So, the Medic had sentenced him to do the one thing he hated most: nothing.

"...Alright, fine. But, do you wanna play catch or something? I bet you throw a heck of a fastball! Come on, anything..." Whined the scout, desperately trying to find something not as mind-numbing as making different metallic sounds when he hit his bat against things.

"No, Scout. We must defend point. If Sasha and I are caught off guard, it could mean failure," explained Heavy, straight-faced the whole time.

"Um... hey! Look over there! I totally just saw BLU Spy!" Scout pointed.

"What?" Yelled Heavy, revving his minigun. "COME OUT AND FACE ME, COWARD!" He yelled over the noise Sasha made, and when he found nothing for several minutes, revved down the gun. "I see no Spy, Scout. Are you sure you s-" he started, and stopped suddenly.

"Mmmm, what do you put in this thing, man?" Grinned the scout, as he munched on the sandvich. "It's delicious!"

"You... you put my sandvich down RIGHT NOW!" Roared the Heavy, abandoning Sasha and charging at the Scout. "Put it down or FEEL BIG CONSEQUENCES!"

_Eh, better that doing nothing, I suppose,_ thought Scout as he ran away from Heavy. It was too easy, seeing as how he was so large and clumsy. "Oh, man, that was a close one!" Taunted Scout. "Hey, you almost got me there! Ooooh, Dodgers 1, Giants ZERO!"

"Leetle Scout, quit eating my sandvich! Why must you steal all our food?" Yelled Heavy, trying his hardest to regain his prized snack. Suddenly, from around the corner, a BLU Pyro and a BLU Medic appeared, fresh out of uber. The Scout and Heavy exchanged alarmed glances. Their weapons were much too far away to do anything, and no one wanted to run up to the Pyro to try and melee. A sniper rifle's shot pierced their ears, and suddenly the medic had a rather inconvenient bullet through his head.

"THAT'S ALL I CAN DO FOR YA, MATES!" Yelled the sniper from around the corner. "BLOODY GOOD LUCK!"

"MISSION ENDS IN TEN SECONDS!" The Announcer's voice said urgently. This was it! If they could just stop this one Pyro... RED would be victorious!

"Leetle Scout, what have you done?" Panicked the Heavy, thinking as fast as he could. "I have idea! Leetle Scout, grab bat, and brace self!"

"Um, alright, but what are we going to do?" Complied the Scout, looking towards the Pyro, who was already past them and closing in on the point. Suddenly, the Scout's feet left the ground. "Hey, hey put me down, man! I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry!"

"IS NOT PUNISHMENT! JUST KILL PYRO!" Roared the Heavy, throwing the Scout with all of his bear-like strength. "INCOMIIIIIIING!"

The Scout caught on quick, and readied his bat in midair. At the exact moment he got within range of the fearsome fire starter, he swung his bat with all of his not-as-bearlike might. The Pyro went down with only a muffled yell, and just like that, the round was over.

"Victory," the announcer purred. "Good work, everyone."

"Yes!" Bellowed the Heavy, triumphantly punching the air. "Leetle Scout hits home run!"

"Are you kidding, man?" Chuckled the Scout, grinning like a maniac. "That one was _all_ you."

The Heavy ran to the Scout and crushed him in an enormous bear hug. "Uhh, yeah, that's great and all," came the Scout's voice from within the monstrous arms of his minigun toting friend, "but I can't... really breathe..."

The Heavy just laughed, and hugged him harder.


	3. Of Projectile Explosives

Author's note: Jeezus, guys, sorry for the later-than-expected update. School caught up with me, and TF2, of course. People fall so hard for the Spy Polycount set it's funny. Also, want to say thanks to my reviewers/favoriters!

* * *

The Soldier gritted his teeth as he shot a rocket at his feet to get away. It was a bit of a gamble, seeing as how he was on low health. The Medic saw this happen, and was able to heal him enough that he didn't die from fall damage. "You deserve a medal, Doc," he breathed with relief, and fistbumped the prideful doctor. The Medic finished up his über, and ran to the Heavy. "I am fully charged, comrade!" he yelled. "Get zhem, vaus, vaus!" The Soldier gibbed a spy who was decloaking rather obviously behind their Medic. "Hit the showers, Frenchie, today's not your day," he grinned. He decided he would search out those who weren't in the path of the invincible Russian. He moved forward just ahead of the pair, and came across the Scout of the opposing team. He immediately fired a rocket, which the scout jumped over and shot a scattergun blast into his face. "Oooh, yeah, you're real scary. Look, I aint even wearin' a helmet!" the Scout said as he jumped around the Soldier's shots. "You're in a great big hurry to die, son..." growled Soldier.

Inside, he panicked.

The Scout was going to kill him, he knew it. The little devil was too fast for his rockets, had a far superior shotgun, and melee was just out of the question. The Scout realized this as well, and was just taunting him. "Today aint yer day, pancakes!" he laughed as he hit the Soldier with his bat, then ran away to pistol range. "Look at you, I mean look at you!" The Soldier roared with anger, and shot at the Scout's feet. A hit, and he went flying straight up. The Soldier fired another rocket, and missed. _No,_ he thought. _That was my only- what?_ This last part as the Scout was suddenly gibbed in midair. Behind him, he heard a voice.

"Dominated, twinkle-toes! Grow some hair on your face, and _then_ come try us again!" yelled the Demoman with his drunken grin. "Ya looked like ya needed a hand, boyo!" he laughed to the Soldier.

"Your, uh, your eyes -er, eye- deceived you, my drunken friend. I had it all under control," he lied unsuccessfully. The Demoman raised an eyebrow and smirked.

"Suuuure ya did. Now come on, their sentry's bloody down!" He motioned for the Soldier to follow him, and the two went on to capture the final point and win the game for their team.

"Aha, three cheers for me pal Soldier here! Showin' sum real bravery, an'... an'... bravery, and stoof! Oot there! Yah!" Slurred the Demo at the team's celebration, more drunk than usual (if such a thing is possible).

"Aw, come on, men. It was the Medic, and good ol' Demo here, that's who plowed us through. And Scout, with those amazing last-second caps. I'm just the rookie, you guys know that," said Soldier modestly. It was true. Their original Soldier had gone by the name Jane Doe (although everyone knew it was an alias), and was assassinated for being part of the treachery towards the Administrator that came to be known as the WAR. The RED Demoman and the BLU Soldier had become friends at some point during their careers, and the Administrator did not approve one bit. As punishment, she forced the two into an all-out war with each other, over a pair of blast-resistant boots. Afterward, she had them both assassinated outside of the range of respawn, just to spite them. Everyone was silent for a moment in remembrance of their fallen pal. Killed over a harmless friendship. Even the Scout shut up for a second, which was rare. Eventually, he piped up again. "Come on, guys," he said, "we shouldn't grieve too much. We had a pal, we lost him. Well, we've got a new pal, and I'm sure I speak for all of us when I say we want to welcome him and make him feel like part of our little family. Alright? Yeah, I'll drink to that," he smiled, having recently turned 21 and loving alcohol.

"Aye, the wee lad's right, ye scunners. Let's drink to our new Soldier!" Cheered the Demoman, and the team cheered with him. The Soldier finally felt at home.

* * *

All was peaceful until a good drinking contest, Soldier versus Demo, had them all placing bets and choosing sides.

Well, there's Chapter Three, folks.

From this point on, any good review (meaning, more in depth that "lol ur story is gud") can request a pair or scenario for me to work with. Thanks to those who already reviewed, too feel free to request.


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